


love doesn't find us

by JaybirdSpectacular



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Falling In Love, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fluff, Light Angst, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28902945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaybirdSpectacular/pseuds/JaybirdSpectacular
Summary: Over the course of her life, Mercedes comes to know what love means to her.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 16
Kudos: 32





	love doesn't find us

When she was younger, Mercedes had dreamed of love, even though she wasn’t sure what the word meant. Spurred on by tales she gathered from listening to those older than her, she let herself spin tales in her mind of what it could possibly entail.

She thought it meant butterflies and the blushes shared after catching a special someone’s eye. The first meeting, and there’s that spark of something more. A warm feeling in her core, the desire to be around them at any time.

She thought it was instantaneous, all consuming, and inescapable. She thought it would come for her, and not her for it, like a fate, a destiny that had been written only for her.

She thought she had to wait patiently for it, that she would find it someday if she just looked in the right places, played her part in the performance of everyday life, was the perfect daughter, Church-goer, healer.

And she had her small crushes, her fleeting interests. But she never, between her circumstances and her own feelings, never experienced more than that brief curiosity.

As she approached her twentieth year, and became older and wiser (though, she would argue that she wasn’t at all wise), she noticed the spark, the attraction between couples. The moment new lovers laid eyes on each other, they felt something powerful. It was instant, like she had thought it would be. Like it _had_ to be.

That had never happened for Mercedes. Romance seemed to come so, so easily to everyone but her. She never found it. And it never found her.

For the longest time, she thought it never would.

\---

Her first mistake, she would realize years later, was how she thought love appeared, how it manifested for others, and how she experienced love were entirely differing matters.

She would be glad for that.

\---

When she joined the Royal Academy of Sorcery, she met her best friend, and learned just how deeply platonic love could run. And when she joined the Blue Lions in the Officers Academy, she found so much more. Devotion to each other’s well-being. Loyalty to their Kingdom, to their class. Deep rooted concern after each battle, each tragedy and hardship that befell their class. Catching each other in the fall, pulling each other back up.

She prayed for them every night. For their safety in battle, first and foremost. Their wellbeing, their happiness. As she learned each of their individual circumstances, their pains and traumas, she prayed for those, too.

And sometimes, when she was feeling particularly selfish, she prayed for herself, too. 

\---

The battle with Miklan came and passed like a dark storm over their class. They had come back safely but broken in new ways, jagged edges that would refit together somehow.

One’s edges had become sharper than the rest, though he claimed otherwise.

Mercedes found Sylvain in the chapel a few hours after returning from battle. Evening had fallen, bringing with it the cool winds and rains typical to the Verdant Rain Moon, casting the chapel in a gloomy darkness that not even torch and moonlight could fully eradicate. The gloom seemed to focus on one person in particular, wrapping him in its murky embrace.

He was sitting in a pew far back from the alter, elbows on his knees, neck bent and head down, the perfect picture of a lost man conversing with the Goddess.

After seeing his brother transmuted, mutilated into a monster, Mercedes had the distinct gut-feeling that he wasn't praying.

She paused, considering whether to disturb him or not. In their last conversation, she had embarrassed herself, divulging far too much of her life story, though Sylvain hadn’t really seemed to mind. He had said he wanted to get to know her as friends, hadn’t he? And friends comforted friends in hardships.

“Sylvain,” she said, keeping her voice low as she sat next to him, making a space between them meant to be comfortable, but felt more like a giant chasm. Still, she didn’t want to startle him. She knew how even a gentle touch, when unwanted, could be disarming when the mind is trying to recover. And though Sylvain wouldn’t show it, she knew his mind had to be whirling, trying to patch its wounds.

When he lifted his head to meet her eyes, Mercedes had to swallow a gasp. His eyes, honey-brown, normally bright with a clever light, were flat, lifeless, nothing like the Sylvain she had spoken with just a few days ago, before this mission. At the time, he had hidden his concern well, hiding behind his flirting.

Now those eyes cried with exhaustion, louder than any prayer he could lift to the Goddess.

Mercedes was sure the Goddess heard his not-prayer just clear enough, though Mercedes would add her own later.

“Mercedes, what have I done to warrant a visit from such a lovely woman?” Sylvain’s tone didn’t match the smile that failed to reach his eyes. He sounded bored, a monotone that didn’t suit him. Mercedes didn’t return the smile, instead parsing him with meaningful stare. His expression dropped back into neutrality.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. He shook his head and sighed, the noise loud in their quiet bubble of peace in the chapel.

“No…yes. I want to stop thinking.”

She pursed her lips as she thought. Sylvain wasn’t very receptive to speaking about his problems, not directly. What he needed… what he needed was company.

“Would you like to go on a walk with me?” Mercedes asked.

Sylvain’s brows dipping like he was trying to solve a puzzle. She returned the steady gaze full force, not a flinch. Not a smile passing between them. He could accept or deny, it was all on him, but she wasn’t going to put on a false front. Not for him.

“Yeah…yeah, actually. I’d love to, if it’s time I can spend with you.” He answered, a sparkle in his eye, his features softening into a contentment. Relaxed. He stood and stretched and offered her a hand.

She took it, feeling his warmth soak into her skin.

She thought, maybe, this was yet another kind of love. Something she didn’t quite have a name for yet. The steps between companionship and friendship, a favor and trust.

Surely the Goddess wouldn’t mind receiving her prayers later this evening.

\----

War came, pushing aside all their silly dreams and worries. Edelgard foolishly declared war on the Church of Seiros. Students, professors, Knights all fighting for their home. For their beliefs.

The battle came to Garreg Mach, endangering countless innocents. How dare she? How _dare_ she?

Mercedes, filled with righteous anger, fought alongside her class, healing her allies just as much as punishing her enemies.

A magic user such as her should have stayed back, yet Sylvain had taken it upon himself to protect her. Her personal shield. She, in return, kept him patched up and enemies off of him. They were a powerful duo, something that left her with a slight bitter taste of regret as she and Sylvain felled their enemies.

They were winning. The Goddess was on their side, Mercedes knew. They were winning and Edelgard would be punished.

Until, suddenly, they weren’t. The call came for a retreat. Rhea was missing. The Professor had fallen.

Sylvain scooped Mercedes up like she weighed nothing onto his mare with him. They broke away as the Imperial Army swarmed in. Mercedes looked back as they galloped away, only to see the walls of the monastery crumble and burn. She wishes she hadn’t looked. This would be her last memory of the place she called home.

Their class reconvened again far outside the monastery. After he dismounted, Sylvain helped Mercedes down, squeezing with the hand she held for support.

“Where do we go now?” Annette whimpered. Felix moved closer to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. 

“Back to our homes. Prepare for war,” Felix said. “The boar will need to go to the castle.”

Mercedes glanced to Dimitri, who was having a terse conversation with Dedue, the anger writ plainly on his face. She said a silent prayer for him, remembering his anger in the Holy Tomb, knowing the pressure he would be under now.

“I’ll go with him,” Ingrid offered, “and then go back to Galatea.”

Sylvain squeezed Mercedes hand. She hadn’t realized it was wrapped in his, the comfortable weight pushed to the back of her mind. It drew her attention from Ingrid and Felix’s conversation, from Dimitri’s growing irritation. “Can I accompany you anywhere, Mercedes?”

 **“** Me? Shouldn’t you make sure His Highness is safe?” she asked. Sylvain waved her off with a casual air. It felt horribly forced in this situation.

“He has Felix, Ingrid, and Dedue. I can go with you before I travel back to Gautier. Trust me, the longer I can put off going back there, the better.”

“Alone?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said with a grin. Fake, so palpably fake, Mercedes could have choked on it. “I’m more worried about you.” He said. “its dangerous. And you – I –…I don’t want anything bad to happen to you." His façade fell, just for a moment. Shadows flickered in his expression. Anger, sadness. If she held a candle to him, what emotion would shine the brightest?

“Then I’ll gladly accept, as long as you promise to write me and stay in touch so I know you’re safe.” He looked like he’s about to deny her this, even this! She wouldn’t stand for it. “Sylvain, promise me. I care about you. You’re one of my dearest friends. Don’t you dare disappear on me.”

Sylvain’s cheeks reddened. She knew he would have tried to vanish, throw himself completely into the work that certainly awaited him in Gautier to distract him. That was the Sylvain way. He tried to hide himself from his problems by pretending he’s solving them. Avoiding change by letting nothing change him.

In those moments, as they said their goodbyes, she found another kind of love that she couldn’t put a word to. An overwhelming fear of losing her friend, worry for his safety, and hope for the future all wrapped together in a messy package with a crumpled ribbon.

She was not going to lose him.

He sighs, “I promise. As your friend, I promise.”

\-----

_Mercie,_

_It’s been nearly five years, hasn’t it? The Millennium Festival will be here soon. As soon as this letter is sent, I’m heading out for the monastery. Silly, right? We promised, and Ingrid says she’s going, so I’m going to drag Felix kicking and screaming with us._

_I… don’t pray much, nowadays, but I pray to see you there. It will be the first good thing that’s happened in these years if I can see ~~your heavenly~~ ~~your beautiful smile~~ you._

_If I see you._

_Be careful out there._

_Yours truly,_

_Sylvain_

_\------_

Mercedes returned to the monastery, promised fulfilled. And she was not the only one to keep the promise.

Her future King, long thought dead, alive, though not well. The professor, at his side. A miracle was the only way to describe it. Annette at her side. Sylvain, Felix, Ingrid joining the fight late in the battle, when they needed help the most. A miracle. A miracle.

Almost. Dedue…was gone from them. An unfair, cruel twist of fate. She couldn’t believe the Goddess would betray them so, take the kindest one of them from this world.

She met Sylvain’s gaze. He gave her a significant look, his own expression downtrodden and exhausted. But, before he turned to speak with Ingrid and Felix, he smiled at her, slight, but there. Real.

She hoped that wouldn’t be the last one she saw.

\----

When they patched their wounds, they headed back to their old dorms, too exhausted to handle any of the mess that had become of the crumbled monastery tonight.

The next morning found the remaining Lions in the kitchen. Ashe, bless him, had managed to scrounge up some ingredients: some vegetables that had thrived and gone wild in the greenhouse and some rations he himself had brought.

To their shock, they found the water still clean, still potable. A miracle, Mercedes said. Ashe merely hummed as he got to cooking. He had thrown himself into his work, effectively silencing and distracting himself.

Though, to some extent, they all had. Annette viciously scrubbing, moving what rubble she could, cleaning each of their rooms one by one. Felix, at the training grounds from the moment they stepped foot in the monastery until he nearly collapsed from exhaustion. Ingrid, trying her hand at hunting. The Lions supported each other, protected each other.

Mercedes flitted between all of them, giving help where she could, making sure Felix stayed well, searching for Sylvain, who had disappeared from the moment they returned, who reappeared like magic as soon as Ashe declared breakfast ready. Not surprisingly, Dimitri did not join them.

After breakfast, Sylvain was the first to stand, thanking Ashe as he strode from the room.

Mercedes followed him.

“Sylvain?” she called, trying to catch up to him. He was walking away so quickly, like he didn’t hear her. Like he didn’t want to hear her. “Sylvain, please!”

He stopped and turned with that brilliant smile of his. The fake one, of course. It didn’t meet his eyes, darkened and cold. He opened his mouth to say something, probably some of that flirtatious drivel of his.

She huffed. “Don’t I deserve better than that?” She had missed him, truly, but she wasn’t going to stand here and listen to empty words. Truly, they had come farther than that, hadn’t they? She wasn’t going to waste her time with a fake Sylvain.

Sylvain bowed his head. “Sorry. Mercie.” His smile dropped into a frown, and though unhappy, Mercedes knew that it was _him_ and not a simple front.

“That’s better. Now, shall I accompany you to go see His Highness?”

Sylvain raised a brow. “How did you know that’s where I’m going?”

Mercedes hummed. “You’re a good friend, Sylvain. Of course, you’d go check on him.”

Sylvain's smile was genuine, this time. “I’d be glad if you accompanied me. You saw him, right? I’ll probably need the backup.”

Mercedes had seen him, had seen how far he had fallen, but she still doubted that Dimitri would hurt any of them. Still, if Sylvain was worried, she would go with him. Even if he didn’t need protection from physical harm, she could still help patch up his emotional wounds after the confrontation.

Mercedes felt the idea roll around in her mind. Protecting Sylvain was something she had never considered. As students, he always protected her, and she always healed him after the fact.

But, you should be able to protect those you love, shouldn’t you?

\----

A lot happened suddenly.

Dedue came home.

Rodrigue fell.

Dimitri returned.

Mercedes felt hope.

And then, when they retook Fhirdiad, she met her brother. Couldn’t even have a real conversation with him before he fell to Felix’s blade.

She cradled his head, his life pooling around the skirts as she said her goodbyes. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream or shout or blame Felix. Emile would have hurt her, killed her friends, if Felix had not swooped in at the last possible second.

With the capital reclaimed, Dimitri’s gaze turned to Enbarr, and they headed back to the monastery for rest and planning before the battle came.

\----

She found herself in the cathedral, as she often did, yet her head was too full of thoughts to pray, to think of anything to say to the Goddess.

She thought that maybe, for once, she didn’t want to talk to the Goddess. Someone else, maybe. But not Her.

She sat alone on the dusty pew, no company except the moonlight streaming through the damaged ceiling. The shapes of the rubble would normally make for inspired horror stories, but she was too busy living her own to care. She wondered why ghost stories were so enjoyable to her. Maybe, despite the terror they inspired, they gave hope for seeing loved ones even beyond the grave, just one more time.

“Thought I might find you here,” came the low voice she had grown so familiar with. A warm feeling filled her chest, a wish granted that she didn’t even know she made. She turned to see Sylvain, his eyes darkened and his mouth a thin line. “Want to talk about it?”

Mercedes shook her head but still pat the empty space next to her. Sylvain took a seat, the bench creaking under him as he relaxed. His shoulder brushed Mercedes’s, and even that slight contact sent a spark of warmth through her. It was comfortable, at least, against the night chill. Sylvain, at some point, had become a light, a beacon. Warmth spilt from him, and Mercedes found herself wanting to curl up in the glow.

They sat like that in silence long enough for the moonlight to shift away, plunging them into darkness. It was a comfort. The darkness was a blanket that shielded her from the things she couldn’t face in the light. Only her faith to guide her, to keep her from distraction.

“Not afraid of the dark, Mercedes?” he asked, his voice a low whisper, melding into the darkness like a breeze.

Mercedes shook her head, though she realized he could probably barely see it. “No, never. And even if I were, you’re here to protect me, right?” She hummed. “I trust you.”

Sylvain shifted next to her. He had yet to speak a word, but now she noticed the clenching and unclenching of his hand in the small space between them. An invitation, if she so wished.

And in that moment, she wished.

The moment she placed her own hand on top of his, she felt a jolt throughout her body. Adrenaline without the battle. Joy and nervous energy coiling in her stomach. The suddenness of it startled her, eliciting a quiet gasp. He adjusted to lace their fingers together, settling that excited energy, laying it down into a peaceful rest between them.

This was hers, and it wouldn’t be taken from her.

She wouldn’t let it.

\---

The war had finally finished. The Emperor was dead. The time for rebuilding and healing had arrived.

At first, Mercedes thought to join her adoptive father and help with his business once again, but that proved to be a mistake when he continued insisting she marry despite her continued rejections. Finally, having enough of him, she packed up and left. She would be fine on her own.

No, that wasn’t true.

She wasn’t on her own.

She returned to Garreg Mach to help with the rebuilding of the Church and to support the new Archbishop. Her feelings towards the Church were… confused, at best. But she would find her happiness again. Relearning her faith wouldn’t be the most difficult task she’s ever taken on.

Her happiness. She had thought on it, what would bring her happiness. She had her friends, safe and sound. She had a purpose. She had everything she needed.

But still. But still. There was just one more thing she _wanted._

Would she be selfish if she asked for it? And, if she were denied, would she be awful for grasping for it, anyway?

No, she told herself. She fought for her country’s future, her friends’ futures, the futures of the innocents, _her_ future, and she would keep fighting for what she wanted.

It was her right, and she was going to take it.

\---

One day, the Professor, no, Archbishop, insisted she take tea with them.

“Dimitri and I are to be wed,” Byleth said as soon as the teas were poured, joy radiating from their eyes. Mercedes clapped her hands together. She tried to match the joy.

Envy, though, was something she had never quite grown out of.

“That’s wonderful!”

Byleth blushed and played with the new ring on their finger. “He proposed just after the war ended, but we were so busy with all the changes, we’re just now announcing it. The ceremony is to be held in a moon’s time from now.”

Mercedes nearly spit out her tea.

“In only a moon!” She set her cup back on its saucer with more force than she had hoped. It clanked, sloshing out some of the tea.

“We couldn’t wait any longer,” Byleth mumbled. “We’ve waited long enough.” Byleth’s smile became coy. “And I think you have, too. I hope you’ll come. I do believe the _entire_ Blue Lions class should be there.” When had their professor, emotionless as they were when they all first met, gotten so _sly_?

Mercedes shivered. The professor was looking straight into her soul, and she didn’t appreciate being scrutinized. She simply smiled. “Of course, I’ll be there. It’s going to be such a special day for you and Dimitri. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She took a sip of her tea, her next words a whisper into her tea cup, “and it will be wonderful to see our old friends again.”

Byleth hummed, their expression soft as they watched Mercedes. “It will be.”

\----

The wedding, having been planned so quickly, was quite small, considering it was a royal affair. It felt intimate, and while key officials and nobles were in attendance, it was the Blue Lions class that sat the closest and cried the loudest, dressed in their finest wear, suits and dresses in blues and blacks.

When Mercedes raised a handkerchief to her eyes, Sylvain, seated beside her, took her free hand into her own, his smile dazzling and beautiful.

Real.

Mercedes heart thumped.

The reception started very organized and elegant. The music was soft and lovely, perfect for dancing and calm conversation. The room was decorated in whites and blues and greens, fitting colors for the new couple. Hanging on the walls were tapestries bearing the Crest of Blaiddyd. It was all upscale, no expenses spared, the wedding reception of a King. Nobles milled about, chatting with the war hero Lions. Mercedes found herself increasingly uncomfortable with the attention and feeling more and more out of place.

But as the night creeped on, and several bottles of alcohol disappeared, the rambunctiousness the Lions had held in so well throughout the ceremony burst free, an explosion the stiff nobles where not ready for.

While Mercedes herself refrained from the drinks, she enjoyed watching her friends spiral slowly into chaos. Byleth and Dimitri wisely escaped while they could, though no one else seemed to notice besides herself.

Voices grew louder, goading and teasing each other. Ingrid called for a drinking competition. Ashe managed to drink them all under the table, Dedue slumped against his shoulder as Ashe cheered loudly. Dorothea, still sober from lack of participation, laid out glasses of water for each of them, rubbed Ingrid’s back in comfort.

Felix watched Annette, both of whom had given up well before the end of the competition, with a loopy gaze as they spun around the ballroom, his skills from his Dancer days shining through even imbibed. She was singing some silly tune, too low for Mercedes to hear. Probably just loud enough for Felix.

She looked across the room, where Sylvain leaned against a wall, watching the happenings with a small, fond grin.

No longer were his grins like those lying ones from his past. Five years ago, she couldn’t imagine the tender expression that she saw on his face now. Their eyes met, and the world around them quieted and slowed. She waved at him, and he came over, politely maneuvering around drunk party goers.

“All alone?” he asked.

She gestured vaguely at their old class. “I’m simply enjoying the show. How are you?”

He shook the small glass of water he carried. “Same. They’re a real hoot, these kids.” He placed his glass on a table. “Want to go get some fresh air?” He offered an arm, and she weaved her own elbow through it, pulling him close to her.

“Yes, that would be lovely.”

He led them out of the room, down a hallway where no one was loitering. As they made their way down, past windows draped with heavy curtains, moonlight and torches as their guides, the music and voices behind them faded. 

“We used to run down these halls all the time as kids,” Sylvain explained. “Trust me when I say I know where we're going.”

“I always trust you,” Mercedes reassured. The tips of his ears reddened, but they continued walking in comfortable silence. Comfortable for her, at least, as she reveled in Sylvain’s warmth.

He opened a door to the outside, holding it open for her with an unnecessarily grand gesture, a deep bow, a flourish of arms. “After you.” She giggled, but her giggles switched to a gasp when she saw where he had brought her.

A large garden, filled with trees and flowering vines and rose bushes. The moon was full and bright in the sky, illuminating everything with a gentle glow. Mercedes smelled the gentle perfume of the roses that wafted on the calm air.

They sat together on a stone bench, nestled cozily underneath a weeping willow, the leaves rustling in the slight breeze. She shivered as the cool air danced around her. Sylvain again offered her his arm, and she snuggled close. A hum lit from his lips, as content and warm as she felt.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

She sighed dreamily, “Yes, of course. I’m always comfortable with you.” He let out a breath and fully relaxed, taking her free hand into his own.

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” he said as he drew circles on her palm. “I feel the same. I’ve never felt nervous about showing you my real self.” She would argue that he had at first, as they had grown closer, he had more readily shown himself, even without her prying. It was wonderful each time she saw more, and she hoped Sylvain felt the same about her.

“Thank you for trusting me,” she replied. He shook, just slightly, a shiver, yet Sylvain had always ran warm. “Cold?”

“No, he answered, and left it at that. A weight settled on her head as Sylvain rested against her, and she against him. Strands of his hair tickled her ear.

Silence fell on them, but not heavy. A soft blanket that fit around their shoulders perfectly. The silence had always been a comfort between the two of them. A time when he wasn’t trying to hide behind honeyed words. When she wasn’t trying to sooth and coax.

Just them, being themselves, two friends.

Friends.

Her heart beat loudly, loud enough that she was sure Sylvain heard it. Could feel it beating right out of her skin.

If her heart were to jump from her chest, would he catch it?

“Mercie, I can hear you thinking,” whispered Sylvain, his voice raspy and muffled against the top of her head. Just a voice, just Sylvain’s voice, yet it filled her with nerves and joy that blended together, reshaping themselves into something new, something different. Her heart beat harder, recognizing a feeling that was familiar and unfamiliar to her all the same.

 _Oh_. It was obvious what it was, wasn’t it? She had been so silly.

Her heart beat faster.

“I was just thinking,” she said.

He chuckled. “I know. What about?”

“You.”

His suddenly absent warmth left her shivering as he sat up straight, looking at her with wild, frightened eyes. Absence filled the space where warm silence had been as his hand left hers. His brow furrowed, the question written across them in bold ink.

“You shouldn’t, Mercie. I’m not worth a fraction of your thoughts.”

“Stop that,” she scolded. “You know by now that you are worth everything, Sylvain.”

He looked away from her, unable to meet her eyes. “I tell myself. I tell myself that I’m not the persona I crafted when I was young and stupid. But sometimes, those thoughts just creep in anyways. It won’t ever stop.”

Mercedes hummed. Her hand found Sylvain’s again, and hesitantly, he laced their fingers together. Her voice was low as she spoke, “It’s easy for us to find things wrong with ourselves, especially when we don’t match everyone else definition of normal.”

Sylvain’s chuckle this time was bitter, the smile on his face bordering fake, and Mercedes squeezed his hand as both a comfort and scolding. The smile fell away. “That’s insightful. Tell me then, if we’re spending this lovely evening sharing painful truths: do you find something wrong with yourself?”

“Lots of things. I question my faith often, though I claim I wish to be a woman of the Church. I feel rage and anger, envy, distrust. These things, though, I have come to know and learn are a part of me. The war made me face them head-on.” She paused, the next words tickling her tongue as she debated. “More relevant to this moment, I never was sure I could fall in love.”

Sylvain’s breath hitched, “Oh? And why is that relevant to this moment?”

He knows, Mercedes thought. He was teasing. She could throw it right back at him. “I don’t know Sylvain. Maybe a garden of roses at night, after a wedding, just makes a person think about these kinds of things.” She gives him her sweetest smile. “I think you know why.”

“Mercedes,” Sylvain whispered.

“Sylvain.”

“You really are something special,” he said, pulling her close once again, tucking her under his chin.

“So are you,” she answered, closing her eyes, relaxing against his chest.

Her heart beat in time to his.

\----

When she was younger, Mercedes had always imagined that love would come with a bang, crushing feelings, so much that she would shout and cry about her newfound love, think of nothing but it. She thought it would be an all-encompassing romance.

She thought love had to find her.

Instead, she found it quietly, a collection of imperfections making a whole.

She fell in love, but not through grand gestures.

Her love was founded on quiet friendship and trust.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Come find me on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/JaybirdSpec)


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